


One Word One Shots

by fivour



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ATTENTION, Adorable, Alone, Angst, Anime, Cute, DenNor, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Growing, Hetalia, Inspired, Kissing, M/M, Manga, Memoires, Memory, Misunderstanding, Nation - Freeform, One Word Prompts, One word, RusAme, Sad, Short, Sleep, Song - Freeform, Spicy, friction, gerita - Freeform, grow, lietpol, neat, one - Freeform, prompts, prucan, sauce, saucey, sealat, soft, soft and neat, word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivour/pseuds/fivour
Summary: A collection of short, one word prompt inspired one shots. I'll put where the prompt is from and the pairing and then I'll write the one shot. Drabble? One of those. Some might be longer or shorter. Multiple fandoms and pairings. Just depends on what the prompt makes me think of.I mostly started doing these so my account isn't so inactive and dead all the time because I have no creativity or inspiration whatsoever. Whoops.





	1. Misunderstanding (GerIta)

**Misunderstanding (GerIta)** ,  **[One Word](oneword.com)**

* * *

 

Ludwig knew Feliciano probably didn't feeling anything for him. Ludwig himself had grown to love the way the Italian seemed to smile no matter what, always seemed so happy and careless, and still had a serious side at the very least. Even if he didn't show that side very often.   
     He took the way Feliciano seemed so happy around him as just because he was...well,  _always_ seemingly so happy. Around everyone. He never really noticed it was especially around him and not many others. Even when bad things happened, he was still upbeat about it. Ludwig took no heed to the fact that it was usually because "Germany can help!"  
     Nothing could really make him happier to see Feliciano smiling and excited for something, anything really, except maybe his dogs or baking. He never realized, or even considered, that Feliciano felt the same. No delicious food or comfortable bed was better than seeing Ludwig happy. Even a small look in his eyes that wasn't disappointment or resentment or boredom - it could light up Feliciano's day in seconds. Yet, he didn't really have the words to say it, nor did he want to ruin their relationship.  
     So when he got the guts to, Ludwig asked Feliciano what they were.   
     "Italy, are we...friends?" He wasn't sure how to put it, not even sure what he was trying to put a certain way.  
     It only earned him a tilt of Feliciano's head, a small smile to go with it. "What do you mean? Of course we are!"  
     "I just...I suppose it seemed different," Ludwig said after a moment of hesitation. He immediately regretted it, shaking his head. "I mean-"  
     "Different? What do you mean, Germany?" Now his attention was captured, or rather, he was starting to get confused.  
     "That wasn't what I meant to say," he grumbled, before speaking quietly. "I wasn't sure what we were. Are."  
     Feliciano thought for a moment. "Well, I guess we could be more. I mean, I love you! And you love me, don't you?"  
     What he'd said contrasted the innocent smile on his face, and it only made Ludwig flustered. More than before, even. "What? I-I mean, I do, but-"  
     "Then I guess we aren't friends," Feliciano smiled happily. "Lovers?"  
     It was quite a bit to take in - Ludwig would never have suspected it. It seemed so obvious once he thought about it, but he'd never really thought about it before either. The term 'lovers' made it much more real to him than just Feliciano's words and actions ever could.   
     Lovers. Feliciano and Ludwig, lovers.   
     Why did the exact thing he'd always wanted seem so much more like a dream when it was happening? How would it affect them? These and so many more questions were going through his mind, but he didn't want to think about the answers then and there. He only wanted it to be real.  
     "Lovers."


	2. Soft (PruCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is really cutsie and out of character but enjoy this

**Soft (PruCan),[100 Themes Challenge](https://kathrineroid.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/)**

* * *

Matthew Williams. Gilbert couldn't exactly describe how much the name honestly meant to him. Matthew was always there for him, even if no one else was - it didn't matter if he was quiet, it made him a good listener. It didn't matter if he was lonely, it made him like Gilbert's company even more. The two felt lucky that they had met each other, because the other always understood like no one else seemed to be able to.  
     Despite being usually loud, Gilbert found a way to quieten himself around Matthew. As hard as it was to do so since Matthew left plenty of room for him to speak - loud and clear and, well, awesome like normally. Yet around him, Gilbert couldn't find the words to speak loud and clear and awesome. The most he could manage without feeling like he was embarrassing himself was normal and slightly clear and totally unawesome. When Matthew spoke though, his soft voice could rival just about any sound the fallen nation had heard before. Not the sound of victory, not the sound of dogs barking (he shared Ludwig's love for Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster very much), nothing could compare to the sweetness Matthew managed to capture in just one sentence.  _One word._ The quiet spoken words, the softness he said them with - it was amazing, really. And when he spoke in French? Even better.  
     Matthew's eyes were captivating as well. The way they reflected the sunlight, which gave them a slightly blue hint, was beautiful. Gilbert knew that out of everything, his eyes were probably his favorite feature of Matthew. The shade of purple suited him well - it was just as pretty as the sky at sunset, and twice as breathtaking. In many ways, Matthew was prettier than the sky at any time of day to Gilbert, hands down.   
     The way his eyes sparkled whenever he smiled or got excited was like stars. The cute, nerdy look his glasses gave him (whether he wished to admit or not) was absolutely adorable to Gilbert. His wavy hair went perfectly with everything about it, and it was softer than anything he'd ever felt before. Matthew, in general, was soft and cute and just perfect. Awesome, even. Gilbert had a weakness for cute things and Matthew was just that.


	3. Growing (SeaLat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latvia is kind of ooc, I apologize. And this isn't very good, but I had to write something for SeaLat since I absolutely adore the ship! It's so fucking c u t e, man, I just,,,
> 
> hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> Anyways, continue on to the story.

**Growing (SeaLat), 100 Themes Challenge**

* * *

Raivis wasn't sure how it'd happened to begin with. One day at a world meeting, while everyone else was fighting, Peter had approached him. He asked what being a nation was like - the look in his was somewhere between desperation and hope - and what he did, how he became one, so many different questions all at once Raivis almost had trouble keeping up with them all. After attempting (and failing) to quieten him, he settled for staying quiet himself and listening. Once Peter finished spouting out words, he looked up at Raivis hopefully. For answers he didn't have.

"Ah, you want to be a nation?" He hesitated before asking, knowing the answer. After receiving an enthusiastic nod from the smaller boy, he continued. "Well...I don't really know how you  _become_ one. I mean, you're  _here_ aren't you?"

"Well, I guess so," Peter mumbled, a bit confused as to where the conversation was going if Raivis didn't know the answer.

"Then you are a nation already," Raivis told him. "Maybe not the biggest, but still a nation."

After a moment of thinking about it, Peter's eyes lit up. "I never thought about it like that!" He grinned, continuing on. "Will I get bigger? How do I get bigger?"

"I...I'm not really sure. Most of the nations here got as large as they are by conquering," Raivis explained. He realized how that must have sounded to such a young, seemingly careless boy - like he could conquer anyone and grow. "But you have to have the resources and mass first!"

"That's stupid," Peter huffed, putting his hands on his hips. It was a cute gesture, he noted, smiling a little. "You have to be big to get big? That makes no sense!"

"I suppose it doesn't, but that's how it is..." he sighed a little, shaking his head. "But I guess if you found a nation smaller than you you'd be able to grow that way. Not that you should or anything, but that's how it works!"

The sparkle returned to Peter's eyes, the sliver of hope returning. "I wanna be bigger than Jerk England!" he proclaimed, earning a small, almos full smile from Raivis.

"That'll take a bit of time, I'm afraid," Raivis wasn't sure how he'd feel about this little nation conquering anyone at all - he seemed like he'd be the type of leader America was. He'd most likely do well, or at least get by, but he'd be loud and might take advantage of it. Do the wrong things for the wrong reasons, perhaps. It was always a worry like that when it came to new nations - no one could really tell how that'd turn out.

"I'm willing to wait for it," Peter nodded, almost in confirmation of his words. He looked more determined now than before, grinning even wider. "You're really nice, yknow. What's your name?"

"Latvia. And you?" Raivis smiled a little bit more, starting to like the cheery mood of the boy despite his previous thoughts. It was endearing and childlike, a childhood quality he missed seeing.

"I'm Sealand!" He said proudly, his grin becoming slightly more tamed. "And I promise I won't take over you, Latvia. You're nice - you called me a nation!"

The thought once again hit him of Sealand being a leader, but his smile grew even more. "That's a very nice promise to make, huh?"


	4. Friction (RusAme)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Friction by Imagine Dragons. For some reason, the whole album (Smoke + Mirrors) really gives me heavy RusAme vibes. And FrUk. So, since I've been listening to it a lot recently, expect some more song based one shots of those ships.
> 
> This one is kinda s a u c y if you pick up my meaning, so I guess PG-13 for a rating. Though I don't think you'd want your parents to be reading fanfiction with you ahahahahha (wow I'm so not funny). Anyways, no smut, just ah...just listen to the song and try to think about it if you must. You'll get it.
> 
> Also, I checked out a few of those sites that over-analyze songs too much with deep(tm) meanings and most say it's about overcoming or something ?? This is just the sort of vibe I got from the song (mostly "you can't fight the friction, so ease it off" curse my dirty mind).

**Friction (RusAme),[Friction - Imagine Dragons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0aoh363PI4)**

**Warning; S p i c y, so steer clear if it makes you uncomfortable.**

* * *

 

Alfred noticed that he and Ivan seemed to get in these situations quite often. Pressed against each other (occasionally a wall or desk thrown into the mix), desperation clear in the air. The whole relationship was basically friends with benefits - except a little bit more benefits and less friends. To begin with it had been strictly business - like most nations' relationships, especially with Russia. He intimidated mostly everyone, but Alfred seemed to feel like that was a challenge. He wouldn't be intimidated by anyone, for God's sake, he was the hero. He  _couldn't_ be intimidated by anyone if he wanted to fulfill that role.  
     So here he was, being pinned against the wall of Ivan's office. Of course, Alfred didn't really mind all that much. He wasn't too bad of a kisser, from any of the experience the American had ever had, and the look in his eyes that differed wildly from the usual one? A personal turn on for him. The rough, heated, sometimes sloppy kisses? Literally breathtaking. Everything about those moments was quite amazing and the fact that Ivan was involved made it a little more than that. So, no, Alfred didn't mind this at all.  
     Although in all honesty, it was increasingly hard to think as Ivan kissed him, rather roughly, deeply, over and over again. Every time their lips met it seemed to bring them closer, either by a tug of the other's hair or pressure. When he finally pulled away for a quick breath, Alfred was almost gasping, wishing the need for air didn't exist. Then nothing would have interrupted the moment. At the time, the only thing it felt like he needed was Ivan, more specifically, his touch.   
     As he began to place much lighter kisses on Alfred's neck, trailing down slowly to his collarbone, he struggled not to make any noise. The hero wasn't going to give in and admit defeat so early, now was he? Obviously not! So when Ivan bit down on his neck, the pressure a huge contrast from the gentle kisses it followed, he had to resist putting up a hand to cover his mouth and the small groan that came out. Neither of them cared if they left a mark on one another, so long as the collar of a shirt could hide it. Or some other article of clothing very far from their necks. Running his hands through Ivan's hair, Alfred leaned his head back against the wall, struggling to come up with a single coherent thought. It was harder than it'd ever been before, seemingly, and eventually he gave up to relax in the Russian's hold, depending on the wall itself for support. The way Ivan changed his kisses and bites and position constantly made his knees go slightly weak, as much as he didn't wish to admit it out loud.  
     Yet by the way his legs bent slightly and how he leaned on the wall and against the other man, Ivan could tell he loved it without a single word. The noises he made weren't too good at hiding it either. It made a small smile grow on Ivan's face as he continued to assault Alfred's neck and collarbones (which his unbuttoned shirt did a bad job of covering), and he let his mouth go lower, down his stomach, getting ever so close to the waist of his dress pants before standing back up again.  
     "You're so cute when you're this submissive, Alfred," Ivan teased, leaning his forehead against his.   
     "Ivaaannn," Alfred whined, leaning in to kiss him before pulling away much too soon. His voice changed drastically, much huskier than before as he said, "You know I could never resist you."  
     This earned him another rough kiss, his back pressing against the wall and hands gripping onto Ivan's shoulders in response to the ones holding tightly to his own hips.

 

 


	5. Memory (Chibitalia x HRE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is more Italy looking back on his relationship with HRE buuut suck my ass, I needed a ship name to put in the title so :')) enjoy crying with me as you read this if it's sad, I don't even know alfneoincvowei anyways,, also this is real short, sorry.

**Memory (Chibitalia x HRE),[writing-prompt-s](writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/)**

* * *

 

Feliciano often found himself thinking back to his childhood, or at least, the years he considered his childhood. Being a nation he'd seen many wars and fights, so many beautiful periods of peace, and so many great works of art, literature, and everything else - it was something he often found hard to believe he had even witnessed. Lived through.   
     Yet the one thing that stuck with him the most was Holy Roman Empire. The days they had spent together when allowed, young and rather carefree (at least on Italy's part). They'd been so happy together, so in  _love_ and it all went away so fast. It could've been a thousand years longer and it would've felt like it was still too fast. Lying in his or Ludwig's bed at night, while he was supposed to be training, while he was eating, anything he did seemed to remind him of Holy Roman Empire if he was in the wrong mood.   
     Feliciano knew it wasn't good to dwell on the past - Grandpa Rome had often said so himself - but sometimes he couldn't help himself. How could he have seen so many things, so many amazing, beautiful, wondrous things, and yet the worst memories seemed to stick with him the longest? Why did he think of HRE so often? He knew he had loved him, maybe he still did, but it wasn't like him to think so much about him. He could still remember when he said he'd come back for him after the war, still remember the feelings that'd rushed through his head when he kissed him, and it still stung every time. It stung because now those were only memories, and very few compared to what else Feliciano's mind held.


	6. Motivation (PruCan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wowza, more PruCan?? Will I ever stop? Probably not.  
> Also, this is gon be kinda,, kinda sad whoops  
> Post-fall of Prussia blues, my man :'))

**Motivation (PruCan)**

**Warning; This is kinda sad, and also relatable, which is also sad**

* * *

 

It felt like his world was crumbling slowly. Nothing really seemed to have a meaning - he was made to conquer. Gilbert felt like the only thing he could conquer now was his breakfast, if even that much. Motivation came in short bursts and never lasted long.   
     Gilbert had moved in with Ludwig, and technically, he was now East Germany. He was still a nation, or at least part of one, wasn't he? So why did he feel so unneeded and useless? Being Prussia was an amazing feeling, it made him feel important. He felt needed, wanted, and if nothing else, somewhat admired. Why had he let it go? Why didn't he think for a moment?  
     Matthew had noticed his drop in mood lately, knowing something was up. It happened quite often since the fall of Prussia - Gilbert just didn't seem like himself anymore. He didn't like it, not one bit. He couldn't stand to see the disappointed look on Gilbert's face, the loss of...purpose he seemed have. It just wasn't him and Matthew wanted to change that.  
     Although he didn't feel like he used to most of the time, one thing always seemed to cheer up Gilbert. That was Matthew. Matthew's calming way of speaking, the look in his eyes when he looked at him, his gentle touch, his soft hair and cute smile, it all made Gilbert feel like himself again. He still had something left for him, and he didn't think it was going to leave him any time soon.


	7. Weak (Prussia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this one, there is no ship. It's all about Prussia. But it's,, kinda sad so read at your own risk. No other warnings. I'm just in the mood for sad fanfiction and can't seem to find any. Also, I know Prussia is still canonly alive but just bear with me, I like to make sad things like this okay don't bully me

**Weak (Prussia)**

**Warning; Sad-ish...okay it's pretty sad whoops-**

* * *

He knew it would have to come to an end someday. It had always been in the back of his mind, every piece of new territory he claimed bringing it farther and farther to the front until finally Prussia fell. Why did he feel so unprepared if he knew it was coming? Why did he feel so useless, helpless, horrible about it?  
     Just why?  
     The feeling of weakness was beginning to take over his body. It was all he could do to sit up in his bed anymore, and most of the time, he felt himself disappearing. From people's minds, from their lives, from the world. Every time he had to call for Ludwig to help him do something - to get up, to walk to the kitchen, to do anything really - he was reminded of the days when their roles were switched. When he was the one taking care of Ludwig but for an entirely different reason than there was now. And God, did he miss those days.  
     It felt demeaning to have to call on someone else for help when he felt absolutely capable of doing things himself. Nevermind that his will was disappearing and he could barely stand on his own. Gilbert was determined to do something for himself every now and then because he knew it was stressing Ludwig out. If only a little bit, at that. Ludwig was still his brother, whether Gilbert was in pieces on the ground or as healthy as possible. He'd do anything for his little brother never to end up with mind numbing sensation of "I've failed everyone" that he felt at that moment.


	8. Short (GerIta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tol and Smol is such a beautiful pairing thingy,, I did this cause Italy is def the Smol, my s on
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for the lack of updating!! I've been kinda sick these last few days and I didn't know it'd been like five days since I posted last. Sorru!

**Short (GerIta)**

**Okay I promise this is better than the first one lmao, I sw e a r**

* * *

Feliciano didn't like the height difference between him and Ludwig. Sure, being shorter made him feel small in a sense, which he sometimes enjoyed. It was like wearing a shirt a few sizes too big - kind of like when he wore Ludwig's shirts on the lazy days they spent together. That was the good kind of small, the kind he liked. But having to lean up so far to kiss Ludwig was quite the pain in the ass sometimes.  
     Reaching for things was also a problem. Ludwig was almost six foot, so reaching high shelves was never an issue he'd considered when he put the pasta and other goods Feliciano enjoyed on a higher shelf in the kitchen. He'd never thought about it while doing it really, as he was mostly paying attention to organization of the cupboards rather than height. So of course, this was how the Italian ended up with one leg on the counter, reaching pathetically for the shelf his arm couldn't reach. Only a few more inches - only the extra four Ludwig had on him - and he could've reached the can of ravioli he wanted (it was much too early to make it himself and it tasted fine being store bought).   
     At one point, he tried to pull over the short stool his boyfriend kept in the kitchen to stand on, but it only added a few inches. Still not enough to knock it down at the very least, and he frowned. Ludwig was still asleep, and he didn't want to wake him up, not this early. He knew it must've annoyed him to have to help him get food down during his 4am cravings. It'd be at least another hour before he got up and he certainly couldn't wait that long because he was hungry  _now._  
     He tried everything he could think of, from putting his leg up on the counter once again to getting the stool and adding a cushion from the living room but nothing seemed to help him reach at all. He just couldn't get it, and he knew needed Ludwig's help, until he realized that obvious solution he was ignoring - a chair. Feliciano knew he should've gotten a chair from the beginning, but he also knew he was still tired and he wobbled when he was tired. He just wanted that damned ravioli, nothing more, so why couldn't life be more simple?   
     Dragging a chair over to the counter, he put a foot on it, holding onto the bottom shelf in the cupboard for support. It wasn't exactly his brightest idea ever, since the bottom shelf had always been one they could never rely on to put heavier cans on - it was weak and not very supportive. Which was mostly the reason Feliciano ended up almost falling, managing to catch himself before he got hurt but not before he almost brought down the shelf with him and cursed loudly, sighing in frustration.   
     Ludwig had always been a light sleeper, out of habit really. So when he heard Feliciano's yell of angry Italian and felt the cold spot next to him in bed, he shot up, thinking something was wrong. Yet he almost laughed when he got to the kitchen to see Feliciano sitting on the floor pouting in his pajamas, the cupboard open and a chair underneath it.   
     "Need some help there?" He asked, sleep still lingering in his voice.   
     Feliciano looked up, a small smile sneaking it's onto it's face. "I might need a little, Luddy," he admitted quietly.


	9. Sleep (DenNor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My first DenNor fic! I hope you like it, I just thought of the idea and decided to write it. I'm sorry for the lack of updates on my stories... In particular, Understanding. I may be discontinuing it until further notice.

**Sleep (DenNor)**

* * *

Sleeping with Lukas was Mathias's favorite thing. Not sex - just sleeping with him, in the same bed. Lukas always looked more relaxed, more peaceful, and the expression on his face was just beautiful.  
     If Mathias could picture one thing before he died (which of course, he never would - he was too amazing, right?), it would be Lukas, right now. The soft look of his face as he slept was perfect. His mouth was turned up in the slightest smile, something he never really got to see when he was awake. He looked much more calm asleep than yelling at the Dane, and Mathias new which state he preferred.  
     Sleeping with Lukas was his favorite thing because he could watch him, as creepy as that sounded, and simply listen to his breathing. He could run his fingers through his hair gently with no objections - which he enjoyed, because his hair was just too soft not to touch. Sleeping Lukas was his favorite Lukas, the most gentle and caring one.


	10. Attention (LietPol)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of updates on everything guys  
> anyways, this is for my friend who is a lietpol h o e, enjoy it yall

**Attention (LietPol)**

* * *

Feliks would admit, maybe he was a bit needy. He did like affection, especially from Toris, and he didn't mind having the attention on him as long as it was...well, also from Toris. Really, he was just needy when it came to his boyfriend - but that never seemed to bother him.

Toris in sort of liked Feliks' constant need for him; it made him feel loved, in a way. He knew Feliks needed him and that made him happy, as selfish as it sounded. But there were times when it got slightly distracting. Annoying was really the word but he didn't have the heart to even think of it as that.

This was one of those times. It was a busy day - Toris had been sitting at his desk for hours on end doing paperwork, and when he got up it was usually to do something for Ivan. It seemed like that happened much more often than it used to, but with the state the world was currently in, it wasn't really much of a surprise.

And Feliks was not happy about that. He'd come over to his home to spend the day with Toris and only him. Not Toris and his paperwork. He knew it was important, but showing him the love he deserved was much more important to Feliks than  _work_.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only about half an hour, Feliks had had enough of sitting and waiting for him to finish. He still had a small stack left to do and probably had more busy work stuck up his sleeve (he always had  _something_ to do other than pay attention to Feliks, as much as they both disliked it). 

Sighing, Feliks leaned back in his chair, which on a regular day would've gotten him a warning from the Lithuanian. "Tooorrrisss," he whined, gaining his attention briefly. "I'm bored."

"I know,  _brangioji_ *," Toris sighed, looking up. "I only have a few more papers and then I'll take a break, alright?"

Feliks huffed, crossing his arms. "You have, like, a bajillion more to do, and we both know you won't take a break, Liet," he argued.

Toris sighed again, going back to his work. He knew if he kept talking Feliks would find a way to distract him even further, which wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be done with it already. Of course, the Polish man would always find a different way to distract him, and it was exactly what he did next.

With barely any hesitation or a single second thought, he gently pulled Toris's hands away from his desk, scooting over his papers so he could sit directly in front of him. "What are you doing, Feliks?"

He merely repeated "I'm bored" once again, a small smile making it's way onto his face at the flustered look on Toris's. 

"I was going to finish my work," Toris said, laying his pen down beside him. "Y'know."

"I know," Feliks chuckled, holding his hands out for Toris to take. "But I'm bored now, and you'd take, like, forever on it."

"You know I would've finished eventually," Toris mumbled, not exactly having the motivation to argue. He felt a smile poking at him, giving in and scooting his chair closer to the desk.

Feliks leaned down to kiss his forehead, humming softly. "You're tired," he pointed out. "We should cuddle."

Toris smiled wider, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Mm, of course."


	11. Mornings (GerIta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a friend.

**Mornings (GerIta)**

**Warning; spicY for a friend. Dominant Italy. Beginnings of lazy morning sex.**

* * *

Ludwig always woke up early, he really did - but Feliciano found ways to keep him in bed he'd never thought of before. He wasn't able to wake him up at first, gently pushing his arm to make him stir.

"Feli..wake up..." he was still tired himself, but if they were going to meet Kiku as they'd planned to for lunch, he had to get up. "Feli."

It took a long time, almost ten minutes, before Feliciano turned over, opening his eyes slowly. "Luddy," he whined, grabbing his hand before he could move it from his arm. "I'm still tired."

" _Liebe,_ it's ten," Ludwig tried to ignore the tone of his voice, something that usually made him give in immediately. "We've been sleeping for almost twelve hours now."

"Well, let me sleep for twelve more," Feliciano mumbled, moving around so he was cuddled to his chest. "Tired."

" _You_ can," he sighed, attempting to free himself from Feliciano's grip. For someone so delicate and out of it, he had a hell of a hold on Ludwig. "Feli, come _on_."

Feliciano refused, moving so he was on top of Ludwig completely. "No. Never." He nuzzled his face against his chest, sighing happily at the warmth radiating from the German. "You're warm and I'm cold," he continued to mumble drowsily. "So stay. Here."

He gave in at that, sighing deeply again. "Feli-" it was useless to protest, as he always got his way in the mornings when both were too tired to argue, so he stopped. Ludwig did, however, not expect Feliciano getting his way in the sense he did that morning.

After Ludwig had attempted to get up (and drag the Italian with him), Feliciano shifted, kissing him softly. He pulled away much too soon, moving his hand up to his cheek. "Stay."

He didn't fight back as Feliciano leaned in again, giving him a longer, needier kiss. It was too early for it, he knew, but the hand on his chest was beginning to convince him otherwise. When he moved away again, Ludwig could see his intent clear in his eyes. If he'd keep trying to get up, he would make him much too tired to do so.

It was only after Feliciano's hand began traveling _a lot_ further south that Ludwig even thought of their plans for the day. He knew Kiku wouldn't appreciate if they were late; and he also knew he'd have a good idea of why. Yet it was hard to put up a fight when Feliciano's hips were already moving against his and his hand was trailing over his thigh.

Ludwig tilted his head back, deciding it was best not to think about their friends while his lover left bruising kisses along his neck and shoulders. He wasn't sure how he'd hide _that_ but it could wait. Anything could wait, at that moment.

Feliciano pulled back from peppering his collarbone in love to admire the flushed color of Ludwig's face, the way he had his eyes closed; completely trusting of him. It was an adorable sight, really. He loved the moments when he got to see him like that, leaning down to kiss his nose.

"Mm, _ti amo_ , Luddy," he sighed happily.

" _Ti amo anch'io_ ," it was much rougher than it should have been - the pronunciation all off - but Feliciano loved it regardless when Ludwig tried to speak in Italian. Just for him.

Feliciano smiled widely, leaning down to kiss him more passionately this time. His hips went a little faster, pleased to find that Ludwig's soon picked up the pace as well. What really threw him off was the small sound of pleasure coming from the back of his lover's throat; he was almost always quiet in bed.

It made him feel incredibly special that he got to hear him make those sounds.


	12. Alone (FrUk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda a vent fic, just to let off some depressive waves from the last few days :')))

**Alone (FrUk)**

**Warnings; Human AU. Kinda sad. I don't write enough of these these days. Whoops. Enjoy if you get emotional :'). This is also really shitty. Oops.**

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He was going back to a place he'd hoped he would never see again. The sounds of kids laughing in the streets didn't help the feeling of remorse he felt walking the streets of the town. It'd always been large - large enough to explore hand in hand with Francis - but never so full. Or happy.

Arthur had given in. It'd been much too long since he'd heard that laugh or seen that smile. He needed Francis. He only hoped he still needed him.

It'd only been a month since they'd gotten into a fight. They usually did fight, but it'd never been bad enough that Arthur picked up his keys and left. He'd regretted it the entire time he was gone, as he knew he would. A month wasn't long enough to make Francis hate him, was it? Had he crossed the line once and for all?

Standing in front of the door to their apartment, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind at once. It probably had been crossing more than one line. Francis had probably moved on when Arthur didn't respond to him. Francis probably did hate him.

Yet as he knocked on the door, all those thoughts were replaced by one: what if it wasn't Francis who answered?

This was dismissed as the door opened and he was greeted by Francis' beautiful voice. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

"Arthur?" Francis didn't think it would've took him so long to come back; he never left for more than a few hours, usually to go to the pub, after a fight. 

"Francis."


End file.
